Woke up early and had myself a quick shower, first sniffing all my products to decide if they were too scented. Because I do not own a selection of unscented products. Thankfully I do own unscented deodorant.
Despite my best intentions, we rolled out the door a bit later than I wanted, but thankfully Friday traffic on a dry morning meant the commute to the clinic was smooth. We went through the Tim's drive through and for my "light breakfast" I had a muffin and a coffee (to assist with "lower bowel cleansing").
We arrived just a few minutes early, which was lovely because I didn't start the day out with stress. Soon enough, they had me installed in a nicely-sized private room with a comfy lounge chair for me and a shit chair for Aion (poor Aion). I got into my sexy medical nightgown, which had a really nice butt panel for extra modesty! Got to leave my tanktop and warm fuzzy socks on, which was nice.
Remember how I had such a fantastic time getting an IV for my laparoscopy? Well, turns out that IVs just don't like me. They tried in my hand and holy &$#^* I almost screamed and swore loudly at the poor nurse. I guess the clinic doesn't believe in the bee-sting local freezing stuff. So I felt everything, and it was so not ok.
They gave up and went with my arm. Unpleasant, but not even in the same category of pain.
There's a theme here, a pain theme. It began with the IV. But it did not get better.
They gave me two Tylenol and an ativan. The ativan was gross. It didn't really have a taste, but it melts all gritty-like and was not my favourite thing in the world. It also did not do anything whatsoever for me. I felt exactly the same before and after. I mean I am not one to usually get super anxious before medical stuff, but I thought I would feel something...nope. Nada.
After checking my birthdate 18 times and my vitals (coffee made my heart rate fast!) and waiting a bit, they made me go pee. I had the stupid IV in my arm and was trying to be careful when moving around in there, but the toilet paper holder was crap and when I pulled the paper the whole thing came apart and so I was sitting on the can watching the paper roll to the other side of the room. Amazing. And then when I got it the paper shredded in the middle so I got half a piece of paper the first time and had to find the end to unroll the thing properly the second. This is so typical for me.
Finally they led me into the procedure room after I explained they needed to fix the toilet paper holder (nurse said she'd get maintenance to fix it?! It just needs someone without an IV!). Aion was already in there sitting where my head would be. Two nurses scurried around making sure everything was in place and sterile. We had a few great conversations about babies and racism and sexism and how our parents met each other. Totally random. And the whole time I'm up on the table with my legs spread open and mostly covered in plasticized paper, all but my lady bits which are on display hanging off the edge of the table with a spotlight pointed at them. And we waited.
Finally the doctor comes in. She said that she forgot. She finished the morning's ultrasounds and went back to her office to make a few phone calls, then thought "hey, there's something I'm supposed to be doing right now." I know it happens, but why me? Sigh.
The nurse then asks the doctor how much fentanyl to give me, 25 or 50. Doc looks at me and asks how the ativan feels. I say I can't feel it at all. She sticks in the speculum and starts poking me on the inside and I squirm and say ow and she tells the nurse "50".
And then pain. Not horrible pain, but I don't like this very much pain. This, I understand, was the local vaginal freezing. Speculum out, ultrasound with fancy needle attachment in.
The pressure is normal, and not unlike the usual pressure from my previous ultrasounds. But then she does the needle thing, and I swore and it hurt so unbelievably bad I wanted to give up and say that it wasn't worth it and I wouldn't be having a baby. And the doctor is telling me to breathe and relax and I CAN'T and Aion is freaking out and trying to pet me to calm me and asks if I want to hold her hand but I couldn't move my hand to grab hers because I have to try to breathe and relax and it's completely not possible.
The nurse asks if I want more meds. YES I WANT MORE MEDS.
See, I wasn't expecting to feel this. I mean maybe feel pressure or something, but not screaming horrible pain. No one prepared me for pain. Bloggers I read said they were asleep and felt nothing. I was expecting that. I was expecting a nice nap and waking up to an omelet or something. So this caught me off guard and I don't like pain surprises.
What proceeded was quite simply the most painful 20-minute experience of my life thus far. The doctor said my ovaries were not in a helpful position and I wasn't helping by not relaxing enough. Well they didn't give me enough %&(%# medication to allow me to relax. They did ultimately give me another 50 (total 100) but I think it was too late and the damage was done. It was horrible. I won't lie. I kept apologizing for being a pathetic wimp, but it was just too much.
Mostly what I remember was the pain and trying to breathe and relax my butt. I also remember one of the nurses repeatedly saying things like 'drips' and 'done' and 'changing vials'. The doctor insisting that I relax. Aion petting my cheek.
By the time it was all done, the doc said I did well and that they had four eggs so far. Four? All that for four? I started crying. Just a bit, but ugh, I was mad. I didn't want to cry.
By the time they got me into a wheelchair (with a puppy pad on it for my blood!) I was feeling a bit better. Didn't faint. Just got in the chair to go 15 whole feet to my recliner. And then they put a new puppy pad on the chair and I had to sit with my bare ass on the pad for a while. They left my IV in, which irritated me a bit. I wanted it out.
One of the nurses sat with us to go over the post-procedure instructions, which was basically "watch tv today, take tylenol if it hurts, take it easy because of big ovaries for two more weeks." I'd get a call Saturday with my results.
After chilling in the chair with my phone for a bit, they came over again, took more vitals, and said I could dress. They also made me go pee again (toilet paper holder still not fixed), and only THEN removed my IV.
Just before we left, they confirmed that there were eight eggs total. You have no idea the relief that number gave me. Eight. Not four. Eight is so many more than four. Twice as many! Of course I'm sure the doctor went for the big follicles first so the later-retrieved ones are less likely to be mature, I figure (I have no idea if that is true, but it is what I was thinking; that's how I'd do it if I were her) but 8!!
Our kind generous friend met us there and drove us home. I proceeded to have a nice nap (maybe the fentanyl finally started working?) and watched tv the rest of the evening as instructed. Didn't need any tylenol. In fact, I have felt completely fine since the instruments of torture were removed. Only bled a tiny little bit. Small mercies.